Slaves are People too
by Freaking Cage
Summary: Godai puts up with a lot...why? Rated because Godai basically hates Neuro, language. Sequel to Reasons.


Disclaimer: If I owned Neuro, it would be stoopider.

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Godai ate the sheet of paper.

He was tired of crumpling them up, so out of frustration and semi-angst, he decided just to shove the fucking thing in his mouth. Four seconds later he spat it out and it landed two feet away from of the garbage. Godai kicked the trashcan and stared out of the window, face becoming a red the sunset would envy.

That fucking demon.

It started out normal enough, Godai going into work with that old fat bastard that had tried to set up the little chick with some drug scandal, then getting scared the shit out of by the fucking demon.

"Slave number two, it's time you put your money where your mouth is." he smiled, eyes unbelievably wide.

"The fuck?" Godai questioned through gritted teeth. Immediately this was followed by an unforeseen force shooting out and throwing Godai to the floor. Godai sneered and growled in protest but did no more, for it was met with a foot on his chest and two spikes protruding from the heel and toe respectively. "Doesn't make shit of sense." He mumbled.

"Really? Well if you know so much then I suppose you're smart enough for this job. Of course, maybe it's too much of a challenge...?" The fucking demon dug his heel further into the former yakuza's ribs, making it impossible for Godai to shout the obscenities he had lined up.

When Godai didn't answer, the demon smiled joyfully and threw a very large, very heavy, box on his face. Even Neuro appreciated the lovely sound Godai's nose made as it was very nearly crushed into his brain.

"Have these done by tonight or I'll shove your head in an electrical socket."

"Wouldn't fit asshole!"

"Really?" Neuro's eyes grew to the point where Godai thought they would bulge and proceed to strangle him. "You want to find out?"

Godai growled and kicked his answer, but the bastard was already gone by then. So of course Godai had to resort to the very unsatisfying display of aggravation on the next person he saw—it was some delivery dude.

So here he was now, sifting through piles and piles of papers to which he was supposed to 'find what's useful!' as the note on top of the box so cheerfully put it. One day, and soon, Godai would put a bullet between those goddamn spiked teeth. However, Godai wasn't suicidal yet, so he would continue to do horrible work every now and then for the sake of keeping his life or at the very least, his limbs.

Godai looked through the papers and found lots and lots of numbers on them. All of them. Numbers and works of art, mostly of naked dudes, and seeing as neither of these things were Godai's cup of tea, he very much just wanted to cut the crap and throw everything into the fireplace.

Not having a high school education, Godai didn't have more than a basic concept of math. You know, adding, subtracting...he never could get division down. Godai sunk his nails into his head and ground his teeth until he could feel them getting smaller. After a time of his temper getting in and out of control Godai split random papers into two piles. The first half he threw in the garbage. The second half he stuck back into the box to be carried back to the fucking demon, useful or not. Godai growled at a few workers before leaving the building, making sure to keep them on their toes and to make sure they didn't dare put peanut butter in the couch cushions while he was out.

It was a chilly night, but Godai didn't like wearing jackets. Too restrictive, he always thought—just what would he do if he suddenly felt like punching the guy next to him on the subway? That was his question.

He received a few stares—being in an upper class section of town would do that to a former, wait _former?,_ yazuka punk—but as he reached the Investigation Office they gradually lessened to merely glares. Glares Godai would handle, stares always bugged the shit out of him. Just thinking of staring made him shiver with hatred, hatred for one certain punk-ass bastard he was about to pay a visit to.

He kicked the door harshly, indenting the wood a bit much to his pleasure, and sure enough the chick answered the door. She looked at him with a pleasant disposition, causing Godai to wonder for a second if maybe the chick had gone insane a long time ago. How anyone could smile around that hell-spawned freak was beyond him. He dropped the box on the ground and shoved it, via foot, into the room.

"There's your precious papers!" he spat on the ground and Yako moved to get a closer look at them.

"Oh, he gave you a copy?" she asked. Godai had been about to leave when she made her little comment. He paused in the middle of his gait to turn around and intelligently question,

"Huuuuuuuuuuuuuuuh?"

Yako looked up from the few papers she was holding and pointed to the braid that was currently typing faster than seemingly possible on the computer. "Akane was asked to find research on the Vetruvian Man as well as some other things, and these are all the papers. Well, some here are missing...but then she sorted them out into what was useful. I wonder why he gave you a copy?" she asked, mostly to herself. She never really questioned Neuro's actions much. Just as 'murder is still murder' and 'boys will be boys', Neuro did what Neuro did. Wondering why a demon from hell fed on the hateful emotions of others was asking like "Why do you wear socks in winter?"

"What the fuck do you mean?" Godai asked, face becoming a splendid shade of puce.

"Well, Neuro doesn't need anymore information." She said, putting the papers back into the box and throwing them into the recycling bin. Godai watched motionlessly, and only his eyes frantically bulging out of his head gave any indication of his sentiments.

"You mean...I spent..._hours_...on that shit..._for nothing??_" he screeched. Godai proceeded to rant and rave, shout, shimmy and shriek until his lungs gave out and the neighbors finally attributed the screaming to be 'them again from across the way'. Meanwhile, Yako and Akane diligently did their duties and the slave-master watched pleasantly, seeping in the hate and rage from a nearby rooftop with an excellent view.

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Author's Note: So I think I'll have all of these related to the same case, thereby having the same theme, and having the same mystery. The mystery will suck, just to warn you though. I just don't have that type of deductive reasoning to really get something good out. But I'll put together something random, and hopefully it'll be so outrageous it might work. You have to admit, some of those cases are totally bogus (the 'Bommer'...? Come on, if her only reasoning was that she wanted people to release themselves, why go to the trouble of leaving bombs in places with names in them? What was the reasoning behind that?) Anyway, feedback's cool. Chill out. ;D


End file.
